Ragnarok: Memories of Our World
by Kuryna
Summary: Reincarnated into the world anew, 300 years after the 'Day of Despair', Wyna and her old friends struggle with and seek comfort from each other's strangely still-intact memories... and with thoughts spanning more timelines than she can fathom to count, Wyna appears to have developed a severe case of disassociative identity disorder that only some of her companions are aware of..
1. Neu Prontera: Odin Square

"Prontera.. The great capital city.."

One faint sigh fades into the background of a bustling city sound-scape, further enlivened by stray splashes of spring water over slate.

Nestled somewhere within the remains of a crumbling yet willful kingdom of Rune Midgarts, and at the heart of this very city, Prontera, stands tribute to their most honored Aesir God, Odin. Wielding the sacred lance Gungnir in his right hand and holding the mighty Slepnir's reigns taut at his left hip, Odin's battle-ready form has been immortalized In stone so that all may cherish his likeness. As if the legend itself had been frozen in time, Odin is poised towards the brilliant blue sky, forever issuing the command to capture Ymir's heart. Every detail has been affixed gloriously from atop a mountain of tiered stone basins, each bubbling over vehemently in descent with pristine spring waters and the occasional decoration of wild flowers by civils passing in prayer..

A lone denizen sits at the base of this proud fixture, kicking her feet quietly over the rounded edge. Her palms are planted at her sides and her fingers occasionally twitch to feel out the wet stone beneath. She is deep in thought and one might even note the furrow in her slightly wild white brows. Intense amber irises scan the cobble surrounding the fountain and then seem to grow softer as time passes.. The woman turns her cheek this way, and that way, and finally she tilts her chin to be just over her right shoulder.

Is she looking at her own reflection in the water?

On this clear day, it is easy to see oneself in surface, yet something troubles her still. Her lips are a thin tender pink, unnaturally pouty, strained against the mellow peach of her face. Her cheeks seem slightly flush and the long black lashes surrounding her rounded almond eyes look to have been moistened by tears. Weakly, she lifts a hand and brushes some snow-white tresses over her shoulder and out of her eyes, making an extra gesture to rub at her face- an effort to clean herself up.

She's frustrated, isn't she?

"Odin might still be watching us from his perch, but countless things have otherwise changed, Mari.."

"Come now, don't cry, Wyna."

Wyna's companion pokes her head from around the other side of the fountain and lends a sympathetic tone to her request. This girl took the liberty to climb into the water just moments before in an effort to change the mood. She doesn't let up, either, making big sweeping motions as she attempts sloshing herself over to her old friend.

"You'll feel much better if you join me~" Marivel chimes, just before missing a step and slipping further into the stream, now completely soaked from head to toe. A passing couple smiles to themselves after moving away from the frantically splashing red-head. Really, that long red hair is all you can see from the surface as she struggles to fix her now surprisingly weighty training outfit. One could wonder exactly what makes training gear out of a stripy leather long-skirt and what appears to be a simple bra.. But she does insist, 'I'm a Magician and this is what the girls all look like!'. Wyna remembers that line well.

Marivel finally straightens herself out and settles for having a rest on her knees in the chilling fountain water. Shivering, but smiling, she crawls over to Wyna's side and rests her wet arms over the fountain's edge. The white-haired youth had barely moved a muscle through the whole ordeal. 'A wet Mage is hardly a damsel in distress', she thought to herself, while finally moving to reach out and stroke her companion's messy hair.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cry."

"Yaaay—" bursts an enthused Marivel, only to be cut off with the rest of Wyna's undoubtedly less than sentimental thoughts—

"We have to keep moving if we intend to rendezvous with Leira on time."

"Oh.. Yeah."

'Damn,' Marivel gripes mentally, shrugging to herself as Wyna turns away and shimmies off the fountain's edge and to her feet, bouncing with the flow just enough to shake any grit free from her puffy brown pants.

"You just wanted to wet my chest, anyway." Wyna remarks, her back to Marivel, and a hint of smirking in her tone. She seems to have cheered up, after all, even with those folded arms.

As the other girl struggles to lift herself from the fountain and crawl onto the cobble for drying, Wyna thinks of making a joke about Rodafrogs, but instead decides to double check her equipment for the short journey ahead. She taps her tanned leather boots on the ground and tugs at the bandages wrapped around her wrists to make sure of their security. A few adjustments to the bags belted around her waist and she's sure that everything is in its rightful place.

"So, are we all ready?"

".. Do you think I'm ready?" snorts Marivel, drooping gloomily under the weight of her soaked clothing. The lavish purples and reds have become drab burgundy over dark grey, but the golden adornments shine brighter than ever.. And so do her eyes, now that she's twisted her wet hair over her back and out of her face. Yes, she looks quite irritable with that penetrating deep-forest green radiating over an evidently unhappy face.

"Oh, right.. To the inn we go..?!"


	2. Neu Prontera: The Inn

"If you weren't always staring at Kleindiana's cleavage, maybe you'd know how to conjure a gust of wind by now.." seems to be the complaint of the hour.

Marivel's situation might not have improved much in the amount of time it took to search Prontera's inns for available beds, but at least she's out of those soaking clothes. For the time being, she's dressed into an unusual outfit that Wyna claims she was gifted from another of her dearest friends.

'Serious? A funky mushroom costume? Yeah, sure, whatever..' Marivel goes over the predicament in her head as Wyna stands at the front desk, audibly counting change to a rather friendly but plain-faced Kafra employee. There are short pauses in her counting and it is clear that she is struggling to bite her tongue of other remarks. How amusing it was for Marivel to watch her turn red in the face!

"Ah.. Miss Burette.. I seem to be a little short this time.. Let me just check this other.."

Wyna trails off while rummaging anxiously through her belongings for even a single glint of rupi. She goes so far as to bend down and slip off a boot, too, and whilst expecting the clang of silver upon hard wood, a stranger presses the remainder of the party's bill onto the messy pile in debt.

"..Oh?" Wyna mouths, startled to hear money, but see nothing rolling from her heavy leather boot. From that low crouch, she lifts her head to catch the faintest glimpse of a passing thief-classed character, or what she assumes to be from the attire and dual weaponry, and an echoing chuckle as that mystery thief makes his or her way up the stairs to a private room. She is stunned momentarily, unable to decide whether she should be grateful or embarrassed, and lingers on the one detail that she can remember of this person- cut crimson hair.

"With the final payment, I will now be issuing your keys!" cheerful Kafra, Burette, breaks the silence, and both girls now give their full attention.

"T-Thank you." Wyna offers, alternating glances between the lovely Kafra employee and the empty stairwell ahead.

"Yes, thanks." Marivel replies, reaching for her key first and trying not to make an ordeal out of the bulkiness of Wyna's mushroom costume as it resists any and all attempts at normal movement. The bell-shaped torso has a slight sashay to it!

Burette bows lightly with both hands folded over her apron and remains still for effect even as her light brown hair threatens to tumble over her shoulders. Upon rising, she states with much gusto, "Please enjoy your stay and, remember, Kafra Corporation is always on your side!"


	3. Neu Prontera: The Inn II

Second floor, rooms three and four- cramped spaces at the end of an empty hallway. Decorations are sparse and the brickwork is left uncovered for all travelers to scoff at. Each room has a single bed at the side of the door's entryway and one armoire behind that. Two or three could share a bed, if they all got cozy, but none could dare sleep elsewhere. The hardwood floor boasts a mere strip of walking space, covered quite poorly with what remains of an old fashioned Morrocan rug.

"Some things never change, even if three centuries should pass." Wyna smirks, entering Marivel's room a mere five feet across from her own.

"Your jokes never cease to amuse me." her friend replies, unfastening the fluffy red-orange mushroom cap from the top of her head and tossing it into the provided closet with little care for Wyna's previous claims.

"Oh, come on!" she shouts, rushing in off balance to catch the unusual headpiece.. and with a bit of pain too, as she slams into the massive piece of furniture, having underestimated the incredibly small spaces they share. "Ouh! .. I mean-! This might look weird, but it's very important to me!"

Wyna's eyes narrow both from bruised feelings and the bruise she's sure to see later that evening from her less than heroic dive.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I'll be more careful when getting naked." Marivel assures, reaching around her back to try and find the zipper or buttons, or whatever the hell it is that Wyna fastened when getting her into this outfit!

"Here.. Let me take care of that."

In one swift motion, the door seems to have closed and Wyna is already inside unfastening the buttons on Marivel's back. But mere seconds later, the awkward mass of decorated foam is sliding down Marivel's body by the will of its own heaviness.

Neither of them feel very flattered by the situation. It really is a silly outfit.. The silence goes on, though, and Wyna presses her fingertips into the small of Marivel's back, tracing the delicately protruding bone. She speaks tenderly into the other's ear, "I'm sorry that I've been so cold. I have a lot on my mind."

A visible shudder sweeps over Marivel's unclothed body. With her back to Wyna, she is all bare save for a snug pair of black underwear. Her chest is held close, obscured in her own arms, though one could guess that it is mostly flat from any good angle. Wyna's head lifts ever so stealthily as she tries to shoot a gaze into the forbidden zone. There is little chance for peeping, as Marivel shifts her weight uneasily, balancing on one foot while using the other to push the last of Wyna's costume off to the side. "I understand.." she almost murmurs, trying to clear her head of now intrusive thoughts.

Whatever those thoughts might be, they are silenced by Wyna's next gesture- a sudden draping of the bed sheets over Marivel's mostly naked form. Marivel shakes her head a little and turns around, now covering herself with a mess of sheets, as if she were in a make-shift toga.

"Haha, don't get too naked!" Wyna chortles, hopping off the bed and grasping at the door handle. "Stay covered, get some rest, and I'll bring your clothes in the morning. Burette said that they'll be dry by then. I'll let Liera know that we'll be a little late.. I hope you know I haven't a single rupi to my name now."

"I guess we're even then.." the flustered Mage replies, bunching the sheets even further around her form as if to hide her more private parts from any prying mishap. The sharpness of her face now is a grave contrast to the lady that flung herself into a fountain only hours earlier.

"You'll feel better in the morning. Sweet dreams." Wyna adds, maneuvering into the outside hallway and making sure to close the door behind her. She smiles to herself and leans against one side of the thick framing, contemplating the next objective- a quick letter to Liera, a stranded party member of hers.

'It can be hard to advance, now that transportation is so sparse..' she theorizes while examining the empty hallway for signs of the stranger from earlier. If all eight rooms are occupied, she might not get the chance for a casual thank you. Knocking on so many doors would be a great disturbance, indeed.

Yawn..

'It's about time for bed, isn't it Wyna?'


End file.
